Alone
by Ixcalia
Summary: Matt's been alone for a little to long. What happens when he begins having hallucinations and his mind begins playing tricks on him? My very first one-shot. Rated T to be safe.


This is my first one-shot. It's a Matt/Mello pairing, which, of course, means yaoi. If you don't like yaoi, then don't read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters.

Alone:

I walk up the steps of the old run down apartment building. The red carpet is tattered and torn, faded to an almost grayish red color and the wall paper is peeled at every corner. Alright, it's not the most attractive building, but it is my—our home. It's not a home of choice, but hey, it did the job just fine. The truth is, no one's supposed to even be here. This was abandoned years ago, but _he _decided that it was good enough. It was free and it was a roof over our heads. I stumble clumsily as I trip over a piece of the carpet that is torn and folded up. I scowl at it and push it down with the toe of my boot lazily. The plastic bag I have around my arm rustles noisily as I make my way to room 13. It's the room that had been in the best condition, so _he_ decided that it would be their room to stay in for the most part. That was okay too. It had a TV in it that worked perfectly and even had a channel or two. It's mostly used on my game systems though, so the channels don't really matter to me. I reach into my vest pocket and pull out the single key and unlock the door, turning the knob and pushing the door open slowly.

"I'm back," I call, looking around the room. "Look, I even bought some chocolate. I'll put it in the usual place, okay?" I don't get an answer. I go over to a cupboard and open it, frowning as a couple chocolate bars fall from the overly stuffed shelves. "Heh, on second thought, looks like I need to find somewhere else. You need to eat more of this chocolate. Never thought I'd see the day that you didn't eat the chocolate faster than I bought it." I sit the bag on the counter and pull a pack of cigarettes out of it, also pulling a lighter out of my vest pocket with a fluid motion. I place one of the cancer stick's between my lips and light it, inhaling deeply as I do so.

"You're being awfully quiet today. Something wrong?" I glance over towards the tattered love seat that sits in front of the TV. Once again, no answer. Oh well. I guess I didn't expect much of one anyway. I go to the couch and plop down heavily. I'm not one for silence. It's killing me. I reach over to the side table and pick up my PSP and switch it on, making sure the volume is up all the way. That should get the other to speak, even if it is only to tell me to turn the damn volume down.

I wait for about a half hour before I give up on trying to get the other to speak. Instead, I turn my full attention to my game. _He_ would speak when he wanted to. I'm not going to push him to do so. I finish the level I was on fairly quickly and let out a heavy sigh. I turn the game off, not even bothering to save it. What was the point? I was going to beat the game anyway and then toss it aside once I got bored with it. Why not make it last a little longer?

"You sure everything is okay?" I glance over beside me. Nothing. No answer. No movement…no person. I continue to stare. It's sinking in. Once again…it's sinking in. I go through this every day. I wake up, get a shower, get dressed, go to the store, buy a few bars of chocolate and a pack of cigarettes, come home, play a game for a little while, and then…this. It would once again sink in…there's no one to buy chocolate for anymore. There's no one to talk to anymore. There's just…nothing.

I let out a savage growl and lean forward, laying my elbows on my knees and fisting my hands in my hair. What's wrong with me? Why can't I move on? Why can't I forget? I don't really want to forget the blond that has made me…well…me. It hurts so much though. Now that _he's_ gone, I am truly losing my mind. I replay the same thing everyday. My head's been messing with me, making me relive the day that _he _left me. I am truly fucked up. And it is _all his fault_. So why do I want to remember _him_?

I feel my eyes burn suddenly and I rip off the orange tinted goggles that have covered my eyes for nearly my whole life. I literally rip them off. I hear a loud snap as the strap breaks in two. I don't care though; not right now. I feel the tears slowly fall down my face as I think of _him_. Oh God, I miss him. I hate being alone like this. There's no one to keep me company and no one to push me around. I need to be pushed around though, by _him_. When _he_ pushed me around like some sort of dog, I felt like I was useful. Even if the order was to get _him_ chocolate, or pull _him_ out of the remnants of an old hideout. I'd do it all for _him_.

I roughly wipe the tears away and stare towards the floor. I need to get the images out of my head, the image of _him_ sitting next to me. _He's_ everywhere. My mind is keeping _him_ here. I groan loudly and let myself fall to the floor miserably. I'm alone. I'll always be alone. I don't think _he'll_ come back this time. I close my eyes tiredly, the tears still falling from my lashes as I do so, and I slowly fall asleep…alone as I am obviously meant to be.

I stir slightly to the sound of quiet footsteps walking around the room. Who would want to break into a dump like this? I move slowly, carefully, not wanting to alert the stranger that I am awake. I feel around lightly, noticing that I am no longer on the floor; instead, I am lying in my bed. God I feel horrible. My head is throbbing and my eyes feel sore and sensitive to the light of day. I force my eyes open anyway, slowly looking to the stranger that has broken into my home. I can't see him clearly, or is it a girl? The build seems kind of feminine. My vision is to blurry to tell. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I see my goggles lying of the side stand, somehow repaired. I did break them, right? I don't even know what's real and what's not anymore. I've been too fucked up lately to tell reality apart from hallucinations or dreams.

"Matt?" the voice is deep and comforting, but I can't seem to place it. I feel horrible. My ears are ringing and my vision is still blurry. How does this person know my name? I'm so confused. I feel a weight on the side of the bed and slowly glance over to see that the stranger has sat beside me. I feel a hand press against my forehead firmly and I can't help but lean into it.

"You fucking idiot. I'm gone for two months and look what you've done to yourself. You're horribly sick. When's the last time you ate?" the stranger's voice sounds almost worried. But no, this person is not stranger. I can't think of who it is right now, but he obviously knows me. He says he's been gone for two months…who do I know that's been gone? I feel a sharp pain pulse through my head and grit my teeth tightly in pain. The newcomer seems to notice. He sits me up and grabs something from the side stand. I feel something being forced into my mouth and a glass being pressed to my lips afterwards. I don't think I have the strength to fight back, so I just let the contents of the glass slide into my dry mouth.

"You…what did you do to yourself, Matt? I need to get something in your stomach." I groan and shift restlessly as I am laid back down. I'm feeling so hot and I can feel sweat beginning to drench my shirt. Why is it so hot all of a sudden? I hear the newcomer curse quietly and feel hands pulling my shirt up and over my head. I hear the rustling of my shirt being tossed aside and then a strangled gasp/growl combination.

"Matt…what the FUCK?" I look down at myself in confusion. Bruises and cuts, none to shallow, cover my stomach, chest, and arms. I see dried blood smeared across my torso and a dark purplish, almost black, color forming around all of the cuts. I don't remember getting these injuries. I didn't even know I had them. Did I get into a fight with someone without realizing it? What is going on?

I suddenly feel a hand on my cheek, and a thumb rubbing against it lightly. It's only then that I realize that I once again have tears running down my face and the gentle caress of the thumb is wiping them away. I here rustling and I feel myself being lifted up in strong arms. This hold, the hand on my cheek, even the voice…I think I know who it is. It's _him_. But there is something bothering me. I'm glad that it's _him_. But is it really _him_? Or am I just hallucinating again?

I gasp in surprise as I feel water hit my now exposed body. Man, I must be really out of it. How could I not notice _him_ undressing me and sitting me in a full tub? The water is cool, making me shiver. It feels kind of good though. I glance up at _him_, frowning when I notice the look of worry in his eyes.

"M-Mello?" My own voice sounds distant and unfamiliar and I notice that Mello's lips twitch upward in a small smile.

"Yeah. It's me. Now, tell me what happened. Why are you all torn up?" I watch as he kneels down beside me and grabs a wash cloth in his hand. He gently runs it over my chest, washing the dried blood from my torso. I wince at the light touch and watch as a few of the cuts open themselves up, new blood spilling into the once fresh water.

"I don't know…I don't remember getting them. Mello? Are you really here?" I get a strange look for a response and watch as Mello finishes cleaning my wounds. He forces me up and wraps a towel around me.

"Can you make it to your room and at least get some boxers on? I need to find the first aid kit." I nod numbly, still unsure if this is one of my hallucinations or if it's the real thing. I stumble weakly to my room and pull on a pair of red boxers, also pulling my jeans on as well.

I sit on the edge of my bed with a blank look on my face. I need to find a way to decide if this Mello is the real thing or if my mind is playing tricks on me again. What can I do to decide? I glance around the room in hopes of finding something to help me. I notice a light catch my eye and I crawl on the floor. I reach under my recently discarded shirt and pull out a gun…Mello's gun. I pick it up, feeling the cold metal send a shiver up my arm. I climb back on the bed, holding the gun firmly in my hand. Maybe, if this is a hallucination, this will get rid of it.

Mello walks in with the first aid kit and glances at me. He frowns when he notices me holding the gun tightly in my hand. He seems almost nervous. I shakily lift my hand and point the gun at him.

"Matt…put the gun down," he murmurs, his voice having a nervous tone to it. I shake my head and give my infamous lopsided grin.

"Mello. I've been thinking. I'm not sure if you're really here or if I'm just dreaming. Then again, it could also be a hallucination. I've been having a lot of those since you left. I just need to be sure that you're real." I grin again and cock the gun and click the safety off. Mello just stares wide eyed and drops the first aid kit.

"Matt, you've lost your fucking mind!" he yells at me and I nod in agreement. I know I have. I didn't need him to tell me that.

"Come on Mello. It won't be so bad." I raise the gun up further and put my index finger against the trigger. Mello takes a step back and stares down the barrel of the gun.

"Mail—" I cut him off with the firing of the gun. I fire three times with my eyes clenched shut. I drop the gun in surprise, my own actions shocking me. What the hell was I doing? I hear nothing for a moment and I think that it had all been a hallucination, just as I had originally thought, however, right when I was about to push the event aside, I hear a gurgling noise and a loud thump. My eyes widen and I look at the body that fell to the floor. Mello's eyes are wide open and his pupils are dilated.

I rush jump off of the bed and go over to him quickly. I shake him lightly and call his name in a panicked tone. My three shots had hit him. One in the right arm, one in the stomach, and the final one…it hit his throat. His hands shakily go up to cover his throat, trying to keep the blood from spilling out. It's not good though. I know it and he knows it. I feel my eyes sting for the third time that day. It was really him. It wasn't a hallucination. He was real this time and I shot him. I watch with teary eyes as his hands slowly fall away from his throat and his eyes slowly slip closed. I hear another gurgling noise come from his mouth and then…nothing. I was back to where I started. Nothing. I feel for a pulse, but there is no response. Mello was dead. The real Mello was dead and it was all because of me.

I stand up slowly, in a daze, and grab my goggles from beside the bed. I slip them over my head and let them cover my eyes. What am I thinking? Not even I know. I pick up my striped shirt and pull it on. I can feel something warm beneath my feet and look down. There, in a pool around my feet, is Mello's spreading blood. The dark crimson blood that I released from him. I watch the blood continue to spread and notice that it's about to cover the gun. I grab the gun quickly before it is stained, however.

I sit down beside Mello's body and pull a cigarette from my pocket and light it quickly. I take a long drag and glance down at Mello's now lifeless body. I give him a sad smile that doesn't match the tears that are running down my face. I grip his hand in my own, and with my free hand, I raise the gun to my head.

"I'm sorry, Mello. I didn't mean it. I'll see you soon." With my goggles covering my eyes, and a cigarette between my lips, I slowly lift my index finger to the trigger once more and let the cigarette fall from my lips. I lean down and press my lips to Mello's, grip his hand tighter, and close my eyes.

BANG!

Well…there it is…my first one-shot…and very sucky if I do say so myself. Oh well. Tell me if you like it, don't tell me if you don't. Thanks for reading!


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